Future Lovin'
by Lady Pyro
Summary: Love is just a hop, skip, and a splat away...or something like that when Miroku and Sango fall through the well. Ch. 8 Well, this is the end... will it all be resolved? You better believe your patootie it will!... Hm, patootie, interesting
1. When tanuki attack

AN: Well, I'm pretty much flying by the seat of my pants with this fic. Have not really planned anything out, but I've also never seen an M/S like this, so it kinda looks like I'm being original for a change. Isn't that nice? Miroku's acting rather ooc, being all cuddly and stuff (without groping). So sit back and enjoy, it's short, but I hope to get more written soon.   
  
*****  
  
Future Lovin'   
  
A light breeze played with Sango's hair as the demon exterminator leaned against the crumbling stone of the well that led to Kagome's world. She wished she could be there. In the land which Kagome had told her so many things about. It sounded wonderful, perfect, much better than here... Although at the moment, anywhere was much better than here.   
  
It was her fault. Because of her, Miroku and Kagome were injured, and Inu-yasha was, in a word, pissed. All because she had hesitated. Damn it! In battle, one never paused! One fraction of a second could mean life or death for yourself, your comrades, your enemy. They were lucky this time. Only injuries and bruised pride had resulted from her failure, but that was just it. She was a failure. Next time, the ending could be much worse.   
  
Cursing, Sango punched the stone next to her leg. How could she go back and face them? Certainly not now, so soon after the fight. She would have to wait. Maybe she could go on her own for awhile, a month or two, and then come back to the village and wait for them. Maybe they could accept her then, maybe she could accept herself.   
  
An arm suddenly snaked around her waist, and Sango jumped to the side, away from her assailant. She recognized Miroku and slowly retunred to her position on the well wall. She stayed silent, not sure what to say to the monk who must be furious with her.   
  
"Sango, what's wrong?"  
  
The concern in his voice surprised her. Why wasn't he railing at her for failing? "I-I..." Sango hopped to her feet and bowed. "I'm sorry, Houshi-sama. You were hurt becasue of me, and I am truly sorry." Just as quickly as she had stood, she sat with head lowered.  
  
Miroku blinked. She was taking the last battle very hard. Gingerly, mindful of both his broken arm and the fury that sprang up from her whenever he touched her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, making sure that his hand remained in a "safe" location.   
  
Sango stiffened, but did not raise her head or say anything.   
  
Miroku pulled her towards him until her head was leaning against his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. It was my fault that I didn't move fast enough and that I landed stupidly. You had nothing to do with it."  
  
Sango lifted her head. "But-"   
  
Miroku placed a finger to her lips. "Don't worry about it. Inu-yasha was just upset becasue Kagome-sama was hurt." Seeing she was about to blame herself again, he hurried on, "And that wasn't your fault either. You need to start worrying about yourself more and not the rest of us. Where would we be if you got hurt?"  
  
Sango brushed off his arm and stood, beginning to pace. "In a lot better position than you are now!"  
  
Miroku grinned. "Yeah, I'd make sure I was the one bandaging you up!" He winked.   
  
Sango did not respond to his perverted comment. Instead, she paced back and forth across the clearing a few more times, and then stopped in front of Miroku. "I'm leaving," she announced, eyes darting up, meeting his, and dropping again.   
  
The leaves rustling in the wind was the only sound.   
  
Finally, Miroku inhaled sharply and asked, "What?"  
  
Sango repeated her decision, more forcefully, trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do.   
  
Miroku reached out to her and grabbed her hands. "Why?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.   
  
Sango tried to pull away, but Miroku held her tightly. "Because."  
  
"Not a very good reason." He pulled her closer until he could wrap his arms around her.   
  
Sango buried her face in his clothes, her reply muffled, "I know."  
  
Miroku stroked her hair. "Then don't."  
  
"I-"  
  
A voice cried from the forest, "Miroku-dono!" a second before the tanuki entered the clearing. So startled by Hachi's sudden appearance, Miroku stepped backwards, taking Sango with him, and stumbled against the well. The stones beneath him crumbled under the combined weight, and they fell into the darkness.  
  
Hachi stared at the spot where they had been for a moment before rushing forward. He reached the side of the well and called, "Are you all-" His words died on his lips. The well was empty. He twisted his shirt between his hands. "Oh dear."  
  
  
  



	2. The wonders of Japanese spaghetti (with ...

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I've never gotten so many in such a short amount of time. Needless to say, I was inspired to write more. And yeah, about the well and what it's made of... after doing some research (which consisted mainly of asking my sister) I have discovered that the _inside_ of the well is stone, and the top part where anyone would be leaning is wood. Whoops on my part.   
  
And never fear, I'm not going yaoi. IY is one of those series where I can't see any of the characters as gay... maybe with the possible exception of Naraku, but he and Kikyo make such a great couple anyway that I wouldn't want to mess that up. Anywho, here is the first chapter of our adventures in Tokyo! Woohoo!   
  
***  
  
Future Lovin' Part 2  
  
Sango winced as she opened her eyes. Her head hurt. It felt like she had fallen and- oh, yeah, she had. Stupid Miroku dragging her into the well... Speaking of which, they were still in the bottom of the well, and it was dark at the top. Growling in irritation, the day had disappeared while she had been unconscious, she tried to sit up.   
  
Only then did she realize that Miroku was lying on top of her with his head pillowed on her chest and an all too happy smile on his face!   
  
Sango wriggled out from beneath him and hit the back of his head. Even when knocked senseless he was still a pervert.   
  
The smack woke him up, and groggily he looked at her. "Eh, Sango? What'd I do now?"   
  
Rather than answer, Sango stood and glanced around at the sides and bottom of the well. It was quite a climb to the top, but fortunately Kagome had set a ladder against the wall. "Come on, Houshi-sama, dinner's probably ready about now." To emphasize her words, her stomach rumbled loudly. Blushing, she started climbing up the ladder.  
  
Miroku, now fully awake, tilted his head. "When did Kagome-sama bring a ladder?"   
  
Sango shrugged, continuing her climb. She swung her body over the rim and gasped. "Houshi-sama!"  
  
Miroku scampered up the ladder with surprising speed considering his left arm was broken and stared in shock. They were no longer in the forest. They were in a little building at one end of a shrine yard. At the other end stood a house, light and laughter pouring out of its open windows.   
  
Sango recovered first and began drifting towards the house. Miroku caught her arm. "What are you doing?"  
  
Sango tore her gaze from the house, something which seemed a great effort to her, and smiled up at the monk. "This is Kagome-chan's world!"   
  
Miroku stared, startled. He had never seen Sango smile so broadly before. Shaking himself, he tugged on her arm. "Then let's get back to our world."  
  
Sango pulled out of his grip. "No! Kagome-chan has said so much about this place. I want to see it all for myself!" She started her march to the house again. Miroku followed slowly.  
  
When she reached the front door, Sango paused, suddenly uncertain. Should she be here? Or should she listen to Miroku? They didn't belong here, but she so wanted to look upon the wonders of Kagome's world, things greater than instant ramen and bicycles and bathing suits.   
  
Miroku made her decision for her and rapped on the door. A moment later, the door swung inward, surprising both of them, and a little boy confronted them. "Um... can I-"  
  
"May, dear! May!" a woman called from further in the house.   
  
The boy flushed and groaned. "_May_ I help you?"   
  
Miroku stepped forward and bowed, proceeding into his usual speech, "I'm sorry to disturb the household, but we were just passing by and noticed an evil spirt looming over the-"  
  
Sango elbowed him in the ribs. "Are you Kagome-chan's brother?"   
  
The little boy's eyes widened, and he took a second, closer look at their clothing. "Hey! You're from the well!"   
  
Sango nodded. "Yes. Could we come in?"  
  
The boy stepped back and gestured them inside. "Yeah! Hey, did Inu-yasha come with you? He's so cool! Oh yeah, my name's Souta. What's yours?"  
  
After introducing themselves to Souta, he prattled on at a mile a minute, talking about nothing in particular, yet focusing mainly on a certain dog-demon. By the time they reached the kitchen, Miroku and Sango knew _all_ about Inu-yasha's exploits in Kagome's world.  
  
"... and he was so cool when he killed that monster thing!"   
  
Mrs. Higurashi looked up from the spaghetti she was stirring and smiled sympathetically at Miroku and Sango. Both looked frightened and slightly pained. She wore that exact same expression every time her son became talkative. To save them, she ordered her son to set a few extra places for their guests.   
  
"All right! Miroku gets to sit next to me!" Souta yelled as he dashed off to do what he was told.   
  
Sango and Miroku sighed in relief. "Is he always so..." Miroku trailed off for lack of a term.  
  
"Hyper?" Mrs. Higurashi chuckled. "Sometimes, particularly when people from the Sengoku Jidai pop up." She glanced over her shoulder. "Kagome has mentioned some others travelling with her and Inu-yasha. Are you them?"  
  
Miroku nodded. "Yes, we- Sango, what are you doing?"  
  
Sango was pushing buttons on the microwave. "What is this?" she asked Mrs. Higurashi.  
  
Mrs. Higurashi answered, "A microwave, it cooks things much more quickly than an oven."  
  
Sango's eyebrows scrunched together. "Then why aren't you using it?"  
  
"Well, I guess I made a broad statement. It can cook some things, but I usually use it for re-heating things already cooked. Food tends to taste better when cooked regularly."  
  
Sango nodded and found another appliance to play with, the freezer. Prompted by her questions, Mrs. Higurashi explained the workings of the freezer, and then the refridgerator and dish washer.   
  
While Sango oohed and aahed over the various appliances, Miroku had become curious about the many switches placed along the walls. He flipped one, the lights went out, startling him, Sango, and Mrs. Higurashi. Another flip, the lights were back on. Flip off, flip on, flip, flip, flip.   
  
The timer Mrs. Higurashi had set for the spaghetti went off. Miroku whirled, and Sango dropped to a crouch. Assuring them that it was all right, Mrs. Higurashi turned the buzzing timer off and drained the spaghetti.   
  
The noise had drawn Souta and Kagome's grandfather. Mrs. Higurashi expertly dished out the food to her ravenous family and guests. Dinner passed quickly with Sango and Miroku relaying Kagome's adventures (although highly sanitized) to her curious family. Afterwards, Mrs. Higurashi enlisted Sango's help in cleaning up while Souta dragged Miroku off to show him his room. Grandfather wandered back to the shrine, not exactly sure why Kagome's friends were there without her, but content in the belief that the strange dog boy would protect her.   
  
Miroku's gaze darted around the tsunami-ravaged room that Souta claimed was his. He had never seen such a mess. Books were scattered pell-mell over the floor along with figurines of samurai and other soldiers and strange metal things on wheels that the little boy called "Hot Wheels." The chaotic jumble of posters taped to the walls and ceiling blocked off any sight of the aforementioned walls and ceiling.  
  
Miroku assumed that a bed existed somewhere beneath the- oh, there it was. Souta had just hopped onto it. As he bounced up and down, a baseball and glove flying into the air each time he landed on the mattress, he talked. He spoke of his favorite sports, food, and school subjects as he returned to the floor and demonstrated how well the Hot Wheels zoomed through their track. Next, he rambled on about his sister and all the illnesses she had had in the past six months and how gullible teachers were and why couldn't he go with her through the well so he wouldn't have to go to school itjustwasn'tfair.   
  
All through this, Miroku stood not quite in the room, not quite in the hallway, and stared. Souta's nearly inexhaustible supply of words finally ran out. "Whatcha wanna do now, Miroku-san?"  
  
Miroku knew opportunity when he saw it. He also knew that one must take it and run with it when one had the chance. And so he did; not running, of course. "I think I'll check on Sango."  
  
Souta beamed. "Good idea!" He was halfway to the stairs when a thought occurred to him. Grinning, he turned around and asked, "Is she your girlfriend?"  
  
Miroku paused in midstep. Balanced on one foot with the other in the air, he stared speechless at the boy. He had been doing that a lot recently. He set his foot down. "N-not really, no." Damn, he was stuttering. He never stuttered. What was wrong with him? It must be that strange food, that spaghetti, or more precisely, the garlic. Yes, it must be the overuse of that garlic spice that was causing his speech impediment.   
  
"Oh." Souta accepted his answer with a shrug and a disappointed sigh. A second later, he was bouncy again. "What about Inuyasha-niichan and Kagome-neechan?"  
  
"What about them?" Miroku calmly started down the steps, a startling contrast to Souta who would run down and then back up the steps to Miroku.   
  
"Are they dating?"  
  
Miroku scratched his head and made a thoughtful noise. He did not reply until he reached the bottom step and Souta was practically leaping on to his head in his eagerness. "I wouldn't call it dating. Normally dates don't consist of killing youkai, so no."  
  
Souta slumped. "Aw, I really hoped Inuyasha could become my brother," he whined.  
  
"Don't worry." Miroku patted his head. "There's still hope for them yet."  
  
By now, they had reached the kitchen. Sango was pulling a cookie tray out of the oven under Mrs. Higurashi's watchful eye. Souta, immediately recognizing the importance of the tray, bounced up to Sango and held out his hands. "May I have one pleeeeease?"  
  
Sango glanced towards Mrs. Higurashi. The older woman sighed and planted her hands on her hips. "Oh, all right, but only _one_, and after you eat it, you march straight upstairs and get ready for bed."  
  
"But, Mom-"  
  
"No buts, young man. Our guests will still be here tomorrow; you can see them then."  
  
Souta grabbed a cookie and tossed it from hand to hand waiting for it to cool. "Can Miroku-san sleep in my room?"  
  
Mrs. Higurashi shook her head. "There's no place for him to sleep. Maybe tomorrow night, if you clean up your room."  
  
Souta nodded eagerly, promising that he would, quickly stuffed his cookie in his mouth, and dashed upstairs.  
  
Mrs. Higurashi called after him, "And don't forget to brush your teeth!" She slumped into a kitchen chair. "He's such a handful," she sighed mostly to herself. She looked up. "How long are you two staying?"  
  
Miroku and Sango exchanged a glance, and the monk answered slowly, "We're... not exactly sure. How we got through the well in the first place is a mystery in itself, but I assume we'll be able to go back through it. The only reason we haven't tried is because Sango has expressed a desire to see this world, and I am curious about it as well."  
  
Mrs. Higurashi hmmed. "Well, tomorrow's my day off. We can go shopping, get you two some clothes, see some of the sights." She stood and started putting the newly baked cookies into a jar. "Sango, you can sleep in Kagome's room and borrow some of her clothes until we can get you some of your own. Miroku, hmmm... I can make up the couch for you."  
  
Miroku bowed. "Oh, don't trouble yourself. Sleeping on the floor in Sango's room will be fine."  
  
Mrs. Higurashi's mouth quirked while Sango shook her head. "It's no trouble, and I'm not about to let any person in my house sleep on the floor! Sango, Kagome's room is the first one on the left upstairs, I'll let you get changed while I see to this dashing young man."  
  
Miroku grinned, and Sango sighed. So much for Houshi-sama acting civilly, she thought. Now he's going to be back to his old tricks.   
  
She found Kagome's room with no diffilculty and looked around the neat space. It seemed like her friend to have such an organized room. Sango yawned and gravitated towards the dresser next to the bed. After a quick search, she discovered a pair of Kagome's pajamas and slipped into them. Yawning, she crawled under the covers of the bed and closed her eyes.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Would you like fries with that?

AN: Don't hurt me, please! I beg of you! I know it's been over a month since I last posted anything, but I've got a good excuse... well, it might not be good, but I do have an excuse. I went away for two and a half weeks to get a job down in Virginia at Busch Gardens, so if anyone is planning a trip there this summer, come visit me. ^_^ And then when I came back, I got a horse, so I've been spending a lot of time at the barn, plus trying to get caught up on reading fics and such. So now I'm here. Here's a brand new chapter for you. Longer than the first two combined, so be happy!   
  
Future Lovin' Part 3  
  
Sango stretched. Kagome-chan's bed had to be the softest surface she had ever slept on in her entire life. She didn't want to move and certainly didn't want to wake up. She was so determined to remain asleep that she refused to open her eyes. That is, until her hands bumped something over her head. She opened her eyes.   
  
Miroku was leaning over her, staring at her face. Sango cried out and slapped him. The monk jumped back. "Geez, Sango! I was just waking you up!"  
  
Sango glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, you didn't have to be that close to me to do it!" she snapped grumpily.  
  
"That wasn't close. This," and he shoved his face towards her so that their noses touched, "is close."  
  
Mrs. Higurashi chose that opportune moment to walk in. She took one look at the scene and smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting."  
  
Sango blushed and pushed Miroku's face out of hers. "You weren't, Higurashi-san. Ano... Last night you said something about shopping..."  
  
"Yes!" Mrs. Higurashi rooted through Kagome's closet before handing Sango a pile of colorful clothes. "These are some of Kagome's clothes that you can wear at the mall. They're not quite so revealing as the rest of her clothes. Not that short skirts are exactly revealing compared to what some girls wear. Sometimes they're practically not wearing anything!"  
  
Seeing Miroku's sudden interest in the conversation, Sango steered it away from the subject of girls. "What exactly is this mall?"  
  
Miroku nodded, also wanting to know.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi slapped her forehead. "Of course! I keep forgetting! It's basically a collection of shops in one gigantic building, a sort of indoor marketplace. I was just coming up to see if you were awake. Obviously, Miroku beat me to it."  
  
Miroku grinned. "Well, it is nearly noon-"  
  
"What? Noon! I've never slept this late before!" Sango jumped off the bed and frantically pulled the covers up into a state of semi-order.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi set a firm hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. You must have needed it. Now get dressed- wait, you should probably take a shower first. Come with me." She gently pulled Sango towards the hallway. "You too, Miroku."   
  
The monk followed them into a small rectangular room that had a blue tiled floor. A large block with an oval-shaped hole cut into it was opposite him along with an oddly shaped contraption that he had no clue what its uses could be and a sink beside it. At least there was one thing he recognized.   
  
Sango and Miroku listened attentively as Mrs. Higurashi pointed to the hole and the knobs attached to the wall above it. "You turn this one for cold water, this one for hot, and you pull this to switch the water from the faucet to the showerhead." She demonstrated as she spoke.   
  
Sango reached forward and let the water play across her fingers. "It's an indoor waterfall," she breathed in awe.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi smiled and opened a cupboard on the wall next to the shower. She pulled out a towel and washcloth and handed them to Sango. "There's shampoo and soap in the shower. Don't forget to close the shower curtain so the floor won't get wet. Have fun!" She exited, pulling Miroku out with her.   
  
Sango stared with surprise at the closed door and then at the cloth in her hands. Finally, she turned to the shower. She dropped the towels, disrobed, and stepped under the water. Yeow! Cold! Sango jumped back out and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. It had been warm a moment ago!   
  
Remembering what Higurashi-san had told her about the knobs, she twisted the hot one and tested the water with her hand. Good, getting warmer. She stepped in again and pulled the curtain closed as ordered. Not that it really mattered much anymore, with all the jumping and the curtain being open so long, puddles had already formed.   
  
Sango's first shower was successful, sort of. She had used Kagome's shampoo before so there were no nasty surprises there. Other than the brief temperature problem, the water was nice... the only problem was really in the showerhead itself. She had bumped it when she was sudsing her hair and discovered that it moved. Pleased by this fact, the stream of water had been just a little too low for her liking, she played with it, adjusting it to different spots.   
  
Then it fell off.   
  
Water began spraying in all directions, and Sango panicked. She tried covering the stream and only succeeded in sending the water further and in more directions. She remembered the knobs.   
  
She turned both, but rather than the water turning off, it increased in intensity and temperature. After the brief scalding, she turned the knobs the opposite direction and was frozen... again. And still the water flew everywhere. Finally, she turned the knobs in different directions, and the water stopped.   
  
Sango sighed and slumped. She failed to see why Kagome-chan loved these showers so much... well, it was nice to bathe in a warm waterfall for a change. Maybe it would become easier to use with practice.   
  
She wrung out her hair and grabbed her towel. She quickly dried off and reached for her clothes... except that they weren't there. The things she had slept in were lying discarded on the floor, but she must have left the clean clothes Higurashi-san handed to her in Kagome's room. She picked up the pajamas and dropped them again. They landed with a wet splat. They had gotten soaked in the fight with the showerhead.   
  
She looked down at her towel-covered form. Well, the distance from the bathing room to Kagome's room wasn't far. She could slip in and get dressed before anyone knew she was done with her shower. Confident in this plan, she entered the hallway... and came face to face with Miroku.   
  
*****  
  
Miroku's day had been strange. He had woken up when he tumbled off the couch. After picking himself off the floor and straightening his robes- which he had managed to persuade Mrs. Higurashi to let him sleep in- he had ventured into the kitchen. Mrs. Higurashi was busy making breakfast, and she had insisted he not do anything to help. So he had watched her scramble about the kitchen for a time, and finally she had set a plate full of eggs, sausage, and three round breads that she had called pancakes before him.   
  
After his first bite, he had inhaled the food. It was good, very good. Mrs. Higurashi had then introduced him to a large black box in the living room, a television, shown him how to work it, and left to clean up from breakfast.   
  
Miroku had watched the television mindlessly for an hour or so before he realized that he had not seen Sango all morning. That's when he had crept into her room. To be honest, he was not trying to wake her up. In fact, he would have simply stood there staring at her for the remainder of the day had she not stretched and hit him in the face.   
  
The next few minutes had gone by quickly with Mrs. Higurashi coming in, showing them the shower, and then dragging him out of the bathroom so Sango could bathe. Since then, he had wandered, not sure what to do with himself.   
  
Which brought him to the present; which was, in essence, staring at Sango's barely-clad form outside the bathroom door. He had a distinct feeling that he was about to be slapped, but the blow never fell. Sango never even raised her hand to deliver one.   
  
All Sango did was blush and back into the bathroom. "Um... Houshi-sama."  
  
Her voice broke him out of whatever trance he had fallen into. He looked down at his feet, his cheeks stained pink. Now why was _he_ blushing? He'd seen her naked before. True, that had always been planned, but it should be no different now, right?   
  
Sango slipped past him in the direction of Kagome's room, leaving him to his thoughts and the lovely view of his toes. Naturally, his mind was not on his feet nor even on the reasons for his blushing, but on Sango and, well, her legs. He had never realized how nice her legs were. Yeah, he had seen them when she wore her skintight exterminator garb, but skintight could never hope to compare to bare skin. And the few times he had peeked in on her baths, he wasn't looking at her legs.   
  
And Sango's legs were so much nicer than Kagome's, not that there was anything wrong with them. It was simply that Sango's had a sleek, firm tone to them that Kagome's lacked. Inu-yasha would probably disagree, but Miroku knew that he would be one dead hentai monk if the hanyou knew he had been looking at Kagome's legs.   
  
The door to Kagome's room reopened, and he glanced up to see Sango step out... wearing one of Kagome's short skirts. Miroku promptly made a mental note to thank Kagome for her taste in clothing.   
  
Sango fidgeted as she approached him. She kept tugging on the hem of the skirt in an attempt to make it longer. She could feel his steady gaze on her, on her legs, and it bothered her. She knew her legs were hardly what one could call feminine; they were too muscular to be anyone's ideal, but did he have to stare at her? Like she was some kind of freak?   
  
Miroku looked up when she stopped in front of him. He licked lips suddenly gone dry. "Sango..."  
  
Sango rushed past him to the stairs. "I'm sorry I kept you and Higurashi-san waiting so long." She was down the stairs and halfway to the kitchen before Miroku could move.   
  
"Sango," he whispered. Then he grinned. She had really _really_ nice legs. And she was going to wear that short skirt all day. Definitely a good opportunity.  
  
*****  
  
Miroku stood at the entrance to the clothing shop Sango and Mrs. Higurashi were browsing through. He picked at his own modern clothes, not terribly impressed with them. The slacks and button-up shirt were horribly confining. He doubted he could move well enough to last long in a fight. Not that he was expecting to get into a fight here, but one never knows.   
  
He also was not particularly interested in the clothes Sango was looking at (all were a bit too modest for his suddenly leg-obsessed mind), and so he busied himself with watching people pass by. He was amazed at how many there were.   
  
People of all shapes and sizes strolled through the mall's main thoroughfare; they were old and young, energetic and listless, fat and thin. The only other time he had seen so many people in such a small location was at a festival in Kyoto. But even then, it had only lasted an hour or so. Mrs. Higurashi had mentioned that this was one of the least crowded times at the mall.   
  
Speaking of time... He glanced up at the sky through one of the windows in the ceiling, the 'sky light.' Good name for it, he thought. What he could see of the sky was beginning to darken in preparation of twilight, and a single cloud, tinted pink, floated into view. Sango and Mrs. Higurashi had been shopping all afternoon. Weren't they done yet?   
  
Miroku pushed off the wall he was leaning against and headed into the shop in search of the women. He found Mrs. Higurashi outside a slatted wooden door. "Higurashi-san, where is Sango?"  
  
Something thumped against the door. "I'm in here," came Sango's muffled voice.  
  
"Everything all right?" Mrs. Higurashi asked.   
  
"Yeah," Sango could be heard clearly now. "I just got my head stuck, that's all." A pause. "Is it supposed to be this tight?"  
  
"Let me see."   
  
Sango opened the dressing room door. Miroku seriously considered whistling. The demon huntress was wearing a tight-knit clingy sweater and that wonderful skirt. Legs!   
  
"Well, it looks all right," commented Mrs. Higurashi.  
  
Miroku nodded mutely. Legs!  
  
Sango pulled at the sweater. "I don't know. It's just tighter than what I'm used to."  
  
Mrs. Higurashi quickly went to the sweater rack and brought back an identical sweater two sizes larger. "Try this one."  
  
Sango did as she was told, preferred the larger one, and they purchased it, adding another bag to their stack.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi checked her watch. "What are you two hungry for? Burgers, pizza, Mexican?"  
  
At their blank stares, Mrs. Higurashi laughed. "I keep forgetting. You two have managed so well here that if I didn't know better, I'd say you had always lived in this time." She led the way to the food court, weaving nimbly through the crowd.   
  
Noticing that Sango lagged behind, Miroku dropped back to speak with her, keeping an eye on Mrs. Higurashi in the press of people. "Why so quiet?"  
  
Sango raised her gaze from the ground. "You heard what Higurashi-san said. We've adjusted to this world. That means I could probably live here."  
  
Miroku stopped and grabbed her arm swinging her to face him. "You're still planning to leave?"  
  
"It's only been a day since I started to think about it."  
  
"And five hundred years!" he exclaimed. After receiving a few surprised stares from passersby, he lowered his voice, "Sango, listen to me, we're going to go back. Not just me, but both of us." Sango opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his hand to her lips. "We won't go back immediately. In fact, we could stay until Kagome-sama and Inu-yasha come looking if you want, but we _are_ going back. Understand?"  
  
"Sango! Miroku!" Mrs. Higurashi called, scanning the crowd for them.  
  
Sango waved and started towards her. Miroku squeezed her arm, bringing her gaze back to his. "Understand?"  
  
Sango pursed her lips, but nodded. Miroku released her arm, and they headed towards their guide.  
  
*****  
  
Miroku decided that he liked this ketchup. Especially on the greasy goodness that was what Higurashi-san called a "burger and fries." Mrs. Higurashi had gone to the "ladies' room," whatever that was, a minute ago, leaving him alone with Sango. He sneaked a glance at the huntress and noticed her staring unenthusiastically at her chicken sandwich.   
  
"It's not going to fly off of your plate into your mouth, you know."  
  
Sango jumped, startled, and looked up at him. "What? Oh," she lowered her eyes. "It's just that the food here is so... odd."  
  
"Odd, but good."   
  
She crinkled her nose. "What do you mean? That red stuff doesn't look _that_ appetizing."  
  
"It is!" Miroku grinned. "It's some kind of tomato paste. Here," he grabbed a French fry and dipped it into the rather large pile of ketchup on the side of his burger's wrapper. He held it in front of her mouth. "Try it."  
  
Sango leaned away from the fry. "No thanks."  
  
"Oh, come on," Miroku playfully whined. "Please? I won't grope you for the rest of the day. Pleeeeease?"   
  
Sango rolled her eyes. "You haven't groped me at all today. Why should you start now?"  
  
Miroku didn't answer, just looked at her with pleading, puppy dog eyes.   
  
The demon huntress sighed and held out her hand. "Okay, fine. I'll eat it."  
  
Miroku grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He waved the fry in front of her face and then held it to her lips. "Here it is."  
  
Sango tried to grab it, but Miroku pulled it out of her reach and, as soon as she lowered her hand, returned it to her lips. His mirth-filled eyes held a challenge, and Sango glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do, and, knowing him, he probably would not leave her alone until she did it. Resigned to her fate (and inwardly promising to pay the houshi back for this), her lips parted.   
  
Smirking triumphantly, Miroku pressed the fry into her mouth and watched her glare dissolve into a pleased expression as she voiced her approval of the ketchup-dipped food item.   
  
"Mmmff, thisf isf good."  
  
Miroku picked up another fry, scooped up some more ketchup, and held it in front of her mouth again.   
  
Sango swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "Can't I feed myself?"  
  
"Nope." He twirled the fry, smearing ketchup on her lips.   
  
Sango licked the sauce off and opened her mouth obediently. The French fry's progress was halted however when the conversation of an elderly couple a few tables away reached Miroku's ears.   
  
"Oh, look!" exclaimed the woman in a voice loud enough for nearly the entire food court to here. When her husband looked in the direction she pointed, she pulled his few remaining wisps of hair so he was turned back around. "Don't look so obviously, dear," she hissed.   
  
Chastised, the man glanced at them more surreptitiously. "He's feeding her," he commented, unimpressed.  
  
"Yes!" gushed the old woman. "Isn't that so sweet? Don't you remember when we used to do that?" She swiveled around in her chair so she was facing a young family behind her. "You see, my Akira was such a sweetheart when we were young. He'd bring me flowers everyday. He worked on my father's farm, but boy! He did more wooing of me than working! But it was so sweet! And what's more..." She prattled on, the family nodding every once in a while, but eager to find an escape.   
  
Miroku's face and neck reddening slightly, he dropped the fry to the table and stood. "Maybe we should find Higurashi-san."  
  
Sango nodded as equally self-conscious now as Miroku was, and the two quickly gathered the shopping bags and hurried away from their table in the direction they had last seen Mrs. Higurashi going. They passed numerous shops, pausing to look into the more likely haunts of the older woman, but all were devoid of their guide. They traveled both the upper and lower levels of the mall, but never once did either of them see any sign of Mrs. Higurashi.   
  
Exhausted from the fruitless searching, Sango collapsed on to a bench in the middle of the wide corridor and hung her head, thus she never saw Miroku wander away from her. When she finally did notice his absence, she leapt to her feet, looking around frantically. She caught a glimpse of his ponytail disappearing into the entrance of an unlit shop.  
  
Frowning, she followed him, passing by a group of young men loitering outside. As she entered the threshold, she was overwhelmed with the loud noises coming from every direction. Harsh music pounded out of speakers in the ceiling, loud enough to shake the floor. Grunts, yells, and other strange noises erupted out of boxes set along both walls of the shop, in front of which people, all of them her age or younger, stood cheering or grumbling. A bright light flashed from the back of the shop, distracting her and casting everything in a discordant, nauseating world of shadows.   
  
Sango wanted to leave this hellish place _now_, but she had to find Miroku. It was just so difficult with the strobe and the yells and the mass of people shifting- Sango tripped and, as she fell, felt a pair of hands grab her shoulders and pull her upright.   
  
"Miroku," she breathed in relief and looked up. Her savior wasn't the perverted monk, but a wide-eyed boy with a friendly grin and a face far too trusting, almost childishly so.   
  
"Are you all right, miss?" he inquired politely, his brow creasing slightly with worry.  
  
Sango nodded, heart still pounding but from more than just the adrenaline rush from her near fall. This stranger, even with the naive face, was certainly a looker! Sango realized just how close she and the boy were standing and, blushing, she pulled away. "Thank you for catching me," she murmured and bowed.   
  
The boy placed his hand behind his head and laughed. "It's all right. You'd be surprised at how many times I have to do that a day." His carefree expression disappeared somewhat behind a more cunning mask. "Although those other girls do it on purpose, you didn't. So it was my pleasure to help you." He grinned once more.   
  
Sango found herself smiling back at him. His cheerful personality was simply so infectious.   
  
The boy held out his hand to her. "I guess I should introduce myself. Most people call me Hojo."  
  
Sango stared at his hand for a moment before remembering that Mrs. Higurashi had mentioned something about a "handshake". This must be one of those. Hesitantly, she clasped his hand.   
  
Hojo prodded, "And you are...?"  
  
"Oh!" Sango flushed. "Um... Sango."  
  
Hojo's grin widened. "Pretty name. It's not very common. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard it."  
  
"It's archaic," growled a voice behind Hojo.   
  
Sango, blushing quite profusely now, glanced over Hojo's shoulder and saw Miroku glaring daggers at the back of Hojo's head.   
  
Clueless to the danger he was in, Hojo turned around and smiled his friendly, vapid smile. "Are you a friend of Sango-san's?"  
  
Miroku's eyes narrowed, and he brushed past Hojo and grabbed Sango's wrist. "We're late, Sango. Higurashi-san is waiting."  
  
"Higurashi?" Hojo looked surprised. "You two know Kagome-san?"  
  
Miroku ignored the question and pulled Sango to the exit. Sango answered over her shoulder, "Close friends actually."  
  
Miroku's grip tightened painfully on her arm as he yanked her out of the arcade, leaving Hojo staring after them.   
  
Sango yelped and ripped herself free. "What is your problem?" she snapped. "I was trying to talk to Hojo!"  
  
"I can see why Inu-yasha doesn't like him," Miroku gritted out from between clenched teeth as he glared at her in turn.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Sango exclaimed.   
  
"That's the guy from Kagome-sama's time that Inu-yasha's always ranting about. And justifiably so! He's a rude, thieving, two-timing, barbaric jerk!"  
  
Sango blinked. "We're talking about Inu-yasha now?"  
  
"No! That- that guy in there!" Miroku waved his hand towards the arcade.   
  
"Hojo? He wasn't rude. In fact, he was far more polite than you were! I was having a conversation-"  
  
"He had his hands all over you!"  
  
"He did not!" Sango yelled, defending poor, oblivious Hojo. "I tripped, he caught me. _You_," she poked him in the chest, "touch me far more inappropriately than he did!"   
  
"He was thinking about it though!"  
  
"What? He was not! Not every man is as perverted as you!"  
  
"Wanna bet?" Miroku challenged.   
  
''Oh! There you two are!"  
  
Miroku and Sango broke their fierce staring contest to glance at Mrs. Higurashi who, laden with another half a dozen bags, had materialized beside them.   
  
"I shouldn't have left you two alone so long, but I saw this outfit in a store window, and I thought it would suit you so well, Sango! And I even found some other clothes for you, Miroku. Something a bit more modern than my Kenji's old clothes." She walked past them in the general direction of the exit.   
  
Realizing that they did not follow, she looked back and asked, "Is everything all right? Both of you look rather stressed." Her tone held a hint of motherly concern.  
  
Miroku forced a nonchalant smile. "Everything's just fine. It has simply been a long day. Higurashi-san, I believe both Sango and myself are exhausted from the shopping."  
  
Sango simply nodded, not trusting herself to be able to keep from railing at Miroku if she did open her mouth.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi smiled compassionately. "I understand. I know I'm quite the avid shopper, but one almost has to to be able to get any good deals. Come on then! Let's get back to the house, and you two can have a nice rest!" 


	4. Oblivious

AN: Thanks to all who reviewed for the past couple chapters. Um... let's see, oh yeah, Kaerra: When Hojo played courageous knight, Miroku was further into the arcade and I guess didn't realize that Sango had followed him. He was drawn like all guys to the sounds of death and destruction emanating from the games. ^_^ So sit back and enjoy this latest!  
  
Future Lovin' Part 4  
  
Breakfast of Sango and Miroku's second morning in Tokyo was tense. Sango was ignoring Miroku, still miffed over how he had treated Hojo. Miroku attempted to make amends occasionally, but after being rebuffed ten times, he had given up and was eating in sullen silence. Mrs. Higurashi was not sure why her young guests were so upset with each other, and Souta looked from face to face, confused. Grandfather had yet to appear in the kitchen, and as the hour wore on, it didn't look like he would be there before the others left.  
  
Souta was the first to leave, tramping rather unwillingly upstairs to collect his bookbag and setting off for school. Mrs. Higurashi was next. Food in the household was getting low, and so a journey to the grocery store was in order.   
  
After washing the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Higurashi turned to Sango and Miroku and offered to take them with her. Sango declined, claiming exhaustion from yesterday's shopping trip; Miroku shook his head, not giving a specific reason why (although Mrs. Higurashi suspected Sango's decision had decided for the young monk.) Before she left, she handed each a small piece of paper with two rows of strange symbols written neatly across the top.   
  
Miroku tilted his head to the side as he studied the symbols. "Higurashi-san, what exactly are these?"  
  
Mrs. Higurashi looked from him to the paper, and then back again before realization dawned. "Oh! Arabic numerals. And that is the shrine's phone number," she pointed to the top line. "And that's my cell phone number. I'm sure you two will eventually get bored of sitting around and will wander off." She waggled her finger at them. "I have no problem with that because 1, I am not your mother. 2, In the feudal era, you're both legal adults anyway so you can make your own decisions. And finally, I trust my daughter enough to let her traipse through demon-infested lands for weeks on end. I should certainly hope her friends are as trust-worthy as she is.  
  
"But if you do get lost, find a pay phone and-" She snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "You'll need money too, of course! Anyway, find a pay phone and dial in the numbers. Hopefully, you won't get lost though." She glanced at her watch. "Oooh, I need to get to the store before the meat sale ends." She grabbed her purse, handed Sango and Miroku a fistful of bills and coins, and jogged out the door.  
  
Sango and Miroku glanced at each other and the money in their hands, confused. Sango broached a question. "What exactly is a pay phone?"  
  
Miroku shrugged. "I have no idea, but it must be pretty common. If we need to, we'll ask someone. So," he sidled up next to her and slipped his hand onto her rear, "where are we going?"  
  
Eyes flashing angrily, Sango turned and slapped him. "Nowhere! I want to stay here today! And I certainly don't want to go anywhere with a pervert like you!"   
  
Miroku raised his hand to his stinging cheek and watched her stomp out of the kitchen. A minute later, Grandpa walked in, smiling slightly. "Women, eh?"  
  
Miroku grimaced. "Yeah, something like that."   
  
The kitchen was engulfed in silence except for the sound of the old man pouring cereal into a bowl, until he looked up, a conniving grin on his face, and said, "You know, there's a festival tonight. I'm told that young people often go on- shall we say, dates there."  
  
Miroku stared at the old man. "Oh?"  
  
*****   
  
The day passed at a snail's pace for Miroku. Several times he had tried to broach the subject of the festival to Sango, but each time Sango would interrupt him before he actually said anything, call him a "lousy, rude pervert, nothing like Hojo," and stalk off, slamming a door or two on her way out. (Sango had discovered earlier that morning that hinged doors were excellent for slamming and now thought of them as great anger management devices.)   
  
Sighing in resignation, Miroku sank on to the couch, his bed for the past two nights. Sango would not listen to him, and nothing under heaven would-  
  
"Jii-san! I'm home!" Souta called out as he entered the house.   
  
Miroku grinned. So the child was back from school, surely he would want to go the festival. Smirking, the monk intercepted Souta in the kitchen. "Souta," he bent down so he was at eye level with the boy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders companionably, "I've heard that there's a festival tonight..." He trailed off, waiting for Souta to catch on.  
  
Souta nodded eagerly. "Yeah! All my friends are going, but Momma says I can't go by myself, and she's at work right now. No asking Jii-san, either. Hey! Could you take me?"  
  
Miroku's smile grew. "Well, I could. But it would be much funner if Sango came with us, ne?"  
  
Souta returned the grin. "Yeah! I'll go get her!"  
  
Miroku followed the boy's flight up the stairs with his eyes. There was no way Sango would be able to resist the boy's pleading. Victorious, Miroku swaggered away to prepare for the festival.   
  
*****  
  
"How did you convince me to come?" Sango asked rhetorically as she strolled next to Miroku through an aisleway between the rows of food and game booths. She was alone with the houshi and none too happy about it since Souta had ditched them to be with his friends.   
  
Miroku simply grinned at her, still as content as the cat that ate the canary, completely full of himself and his victory.   
  
Sango rolled her eyes and scanned the booths as they passed. She saw foods both recognizable and strange and various games of skill most involving throwing balls at bottles or moving targets.   
  
Scattered throughout and between the booths were odd machines that whirled and spun and rose and fell and moved in any direction one could possibly think of. From the sounds emanating from those people aboard the "rides," Sango was not sure whether they were meant for amusement or torture. As they passed a bright yellow spinning ride, one of its arms swept towards them and then abruptly away. Sitting on a seat carved into the limb, a woman yelled in fear. Sango decided. Torture, definitely a torture device.   
  
She was startled when Miroku grabbed her hand with his unbroken one and rushed forward. Forced into a jog to keep up, Sango yelled at him to stop. The houshi ignored her request and kept running, dodging around people and through booths until he came to an abrupt halt.   
  
Sango glared at him and yanked her hand free. "What is your problem?"   
  
Miroku turned an expression filled with wonder on her and pointed up. "We're going on that!"  
  
Sango's eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and her heart sank into her stomach. "Nonono!" She began backing up, waving her arms frantically.  
  
Miroku glanced at the giant spoked wheel for a moment, considering his next course of action. He turned back to her. "And here I thought you wanted to experience the stuff in Kagome-sama's world. I guess I was wrong."  
  
Sango crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Houshi-sama, I know _exactly_ what you're trying to do. It's not going to work."  
  
The monk sighed, apparently defeated. "Fine, then. It's just if you want to live here, you will have to face different challenges. Conquering something as mundane as that," he indicated the Ferris wheel with a toss of his head, "is the first step towards your goal."  
  
"Sango!"   
  
Stiffening, Miroku's head turned slowly to the left and, much to his annoyance, there stood exactly who he thought it was.  
  
"Hojo-san!" Sango returned the greeting of the pox-ridden, flea-infested, unwashed, vapid- Miroku reined in his ire. After all, they had only just met the simpleton yesterday, surely Sango would simply smile at the boy and then come with him on the Ferris wheel.   
  
To his further irritation, Sango did not just stop at a simple greeting. She actually walked over to the usurper and latched onto his ARM! Hojo seemed surprised at her actions, but he didn't push her away. Miroku seethed.   
  
Sango smiled at the boy, her eyes lighting up happily. "Hojo-kun..."  
  
Miroku clenched his teeth. Hojo-KUN?!   
  
"Would you mind if I wandered around with you? I really don't know where to begin with a festival as large as this one."  
  
Hojo returned her grin, but a sudden worried expression replaced it a moment later as he looked towards Miroku. "Isn't he your boyfriend, Sango?"  
  
Miroku was just about to scream, 'YES! So get your filthy hands off _my_ woman!' (He had learned something from watching Inuyasha and Kouga bicker.) Sango replied first though in the negative, and so Miroku was left to fume behind them as Sango and the putrid vermin on her arm walked off towards the game booths.   
  
Miroku noticed that Hojo seemed to be steering Sango to a particular booth, and he stepped to the side so he could see around the couple- er, he growled, Sango and weasel-boy. From what he could tell, the point of that particular game was to hit little, he squinted, what appeared to be badly carved beavers or maybe squirrels with a large cloth-covered mallet. Lifting his eyes to the ceiling of the booth, he discovered that the prizes were overly large pink hearts. He snorted. What was Hoho trying to do now?   
  
He leaned against a support pole of a booth across from the whack-a-small-furry-animal game and crossed his arms over his chest, settling in for the show.   
  
Hojo disengaged his arm from Sango's grip, stepped up to the booth, handed the game-owner some money, and picked up his weapon. As soon as two other fools- er, players joined him, the whacking commenced.   
  
Whackwhackwhackwhackwhack!   
  
Twenty seconds later, it was over. The badly carved furry animals never stood a chance. Hojo was the winner. He handed his newly won heart to Sango. (AN: That's a weird sentence, ne?)   
  
Miroku pushed off of the pole and headed over to them. As he neared, he glanced over Sango's shoulder at the cloth heart and the phrase "For a special girl" embroidered in white thread in the middle. Blech, that was too... corny for words. Repressing the urge to vomit or curl his lip in disgust, the monk grabbed Sango's arm.   
  
"So... ready to go on the Ferris wheel yet?"  
  
Sango shook him off. "Hojo-kun is still showing me around."  
  
Hojo held his hands up in front of his chest. "Nono, it's all right. If you would rather go with Miroku-san..."  
  
"No!" Sango grasped his hand again. "I always go with Miroku. This is actually quite a nice change."   
  
Miroku stiffened, hurt. Oh, so it was a _nice_ change that she was spending some time with a guy other than him. And it was probably a _nice_ change that she was receiving sappy cloth hearts rather than bloody demon ones. Well, he could be _nice_ too.   
  
Scanning the area quickly, he saw a stuffed cat that bore a striking resemblance to Kirara set on the ground near a tall pole with colorful flashing lights buzzing up and down its length. So the cat only had one tail rather than two, surely Sango missed her feline companion enough to not care. He watched a tall, muscle-bound man advance on the pole and take a firm grip on the hammer before bringing it crashing down on the platform beneath. A ball shot up the pole, went up, up, and then came crashing down before it even reached three quarters of the way to the top. The man sighed and tried again with the urgings of his buddies, but failed a second time and walked away in defeat.   
  
Miroku concluded that the purpose was to hit the ball hard enough that it went to the top. He knew he could do it. If he could hold off the Testusaiga with his staff, then surely he could win a stuffed demon cat for Sango by whacking some ball up a vertical post with a sledgehammer. Glancing behind him to check on Sango's and Hojo's position- they were facing away from him, standing in line for some sort of food- he stepped up and hefted the hammer.   
  
The muscle man's buddies noticed him and guffawed, trying to rationalize the thought processes of a young, light-built man who just saw their friend beaten by the game. Their mocking soon stopped however when a loud bring! rang over the other festival sounds. Much to their surprise, Miroku set the hammer down, picked up one of the stuffed cats, and sauntered off, flashing a grin at them as he passed.   
  
Sango and Hojo were just leaving the food line when he rejoined them. Sango's eyes widened in surprise when he handed her the large stuffed animal. "What's this?"  
  
"Oh," Miroku shrugged nonchalantly, adopting a careless tone, "it's just something I saw over there." He waved towards the pole where the strong man's buddies were now trying their luck. "Thought you'd like it."  
  
Sango nodded, wearing a full-blown smile. "I do. Thank you, Miroku."   
  
Miroku grinned despite himself and his false disinterest. His happy expression faltered when Hojo recaptured Sango's attention by waving the food they had bought in front of her face.  
  
"You said you've never had funnel cake, so you have to try it."  
  
Sango eyed the fried pastry and passed the giant stuffed Kirara back to Miroku. "Please hold this for me for a minute, Miroku."  
  
Hojo watched her face intently as she tested the funnel cake.  
  
Sango made a pleased noise in the back of her throat. "This is good!"  
  
Miroku winced, having flashbacks to the previous day's feeding session at the food court. If Hojo even thought about hand-feeding Sango, he swore he would deck him. Hojo, however, gave the jealous monk no reason to attack. He even went so far as to offer him some of the pastry. Miroku waved it off, scowling. This guy was unbelievable, too friendly for his own good and too naive to realize that he was stealing Sango away from him.   
  
Miroku was thinking about broaching the subject of the Ferris wheel again in an attempt to peel Sango away from Hojo when they turned into a new aisle. Sango's gaze fell on the carousel, and Miroku never had a chance to ask.   
  
"Let's go on that!" the demon huntress exclaimed, picking up her pace. Hojo kept step with her, but Miroku dropped back, slowing down.  
  
Noticing his absence, Sango hesitated, half-turning to look back at him. "Miroku? You coming?"  
  
Miroku shook his head. "No. I'm going to go find Souta. It's getting late, and the boy needs to sleep sometime."  
  
"Oh, right then." Sango rotated back to Hojo. "I guess this is good night, Hojo-kun."  
  
Hojo opened his mouth to reply, but Miroku interrupted, "No, Sango. You can stay. I've just been a damper here tonight anyway. I suppose I'm not really in the mood for a festival," he spoke as he walked away. "Have fun," he tossed over his shoulder, ignoring the bitter taste the words left on his tongue.   
  
It was amazing how such a promising night could be dashed to pieces so horribly and swiftly, made all the more horrible by the aggressor's complete obliviousness to his own destructive powers. 


	5. If you the feel the urge to spew, spew o...

AN: Well, my happy readers, ff.net's back up! That means I can actually post something, and here it is. But first, some responses to reviews. Wow... 3 people wanted to kill Hojo... sorry, not in this fic, I'm going to keep the bloodshed to the minimum. However, be on the lookout for Hojo death in other fics... if I ever manage to finish this one. And don't worry, Kagome and Inuyasha will eventually join us... actually, I want to write a little side story of what they're doing. *smashes the happy hentai thoughts of the perverted reader* NO! Not like that! But anyway, have to get through this one first. Enjoy!   
  
Future Lovin' Part 5  
  
Maybe she had gone too far, pushed just a little too much. He had looked so sad as he wandered away from the festival, his shoulders drooping as he clung to the stuffed cat. Maybe she shouldn't have...  
  
But it was unfair what he had said about Hojo. He had made up his mind to hate the kind boy based on Inuyasha's opinion and a five second encounter. He deserved...  
  
No, he didn't. No one deserved the kind of emotional pain she could tell he bore by his stance. She had only wanted to make him realize that Hojo wasn't such a bad guy, that Inuyasha was wrong. But she'd only made things worse. She hadn't meant to. All she wanted was to soothe the feathers ruffled unnecessarily at the arcade, but she had only managed to tramp all over Miroku's feelings. She hadn't planned, hadn't even imagined that she would- even _could_ make him jealous to the point of... heartbreak.   
  
*****  
  
Sango slipped into the Higurashi house roughly half an hour after Miroku and Souta's return. Even though the monk had told her to have a good time, the image of him walking away in defeat had disturbed her to the point that she had mumbled a quick apology to Hojo and darted away without waiting for a reply.   
  
The moment she stepped over the threshold, Souta, clad in his train-covered pajamas, launched himself at her from halfway up the stairs. "Sango-san!"   
  
Sango staggered backward slightly at the unexpected weight in her arms, but long practice with Shippo doing the same thing helped her recover quickly.   
  
"Miroku-san said you wouldn't be here till late, but I knew you'd be home sooner! I was waiting up for you! Mama said I could." He paused in his monologue to make a sour face. "I guess I have to go to bed now though." He slid down to the ground. "Night, Sango-san!"   
  
Sango nodded goodnight to him and headed towards the living room where she could hear voices emanating from the TV. Someone, most likely Miroku, was watching the surprisingly active little box. She peeked into the unlit room and saw Miroku sitting on the couch, staring listlessly at the screen, his face a show of light and dark due to the television's ever-changing image.   
  
"Houshi-sama?" she questioned quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was meditating.  
  
The monk jumped slightly and turned to her, his expression blank. "Oh, Sango. I thought you wouldn't be back so soon. I was waiting up for you. Guess I'll go to sleep now." He rolled to his feet, turning his back to her and tugging his tee-shirt over his head; it caught in his sling though and, with a frustrated growl, he pulled harder. A ripping sound resulted. He cursed, dropping his indifferent, unreadable mask.   
  
Sango, approaching cautiously, placed a calming hand on his bare shoulder. "Houshi-sama, let me help."   
  
Miroku snapped, "Don't you think you've done enough?" and refused to look at her.   
  
Sango sighed and grabbed hold of his mostly-torn shirt, guiding it over his broken arm with great care. She tossed it to the ground and regarded his stiff back with amusement. "Pretending to be Inuyasha is not a good idea, Houshi-sama. You should never let your back get so tense. If you went into battle with your muscles bunched like that, you could do a lot of damage to something." She pressed her hands, palm down, in the middle of his back.   
  
He tensed further, and Sango moved her hands in small circles along his back. He slowly began to relax and sank on to the edge of the couch. Sango continued the massage, rubbing and squeezing his muscles until all the knots were gone and Miroku's head was bent down, his chin resting on his chest.   
  
Thinking he was asleep, Sango slowed her hands to a stop, but did not remove them from his shoulders. After a moment, she let her fingers wander over his skin, marveling at the definition of his muscles. He really did have a nice physique; it was a shame he hid it under monk robes.   
  
Blushing at the turn her thoughts had made, she pushed Miroku on to his back and rearranged his limbs to make him more comfortable. Once finished, she stepped back and studied her work, her appraising gaze lingering once more on his muscular torso. Miroku was sleeping peacefully, lightly snoring. She turned to go.  
  
"Sango!"   
  
Sango whipped around, startled at his call. She thought he was asleep... Oh, he still was, dreaming apparently.   
  
"Sango, don't go. Please," he pleaded plaintively  
  
Sango grew suspicious. Was he actually awake? But why would he pretend to sleep just to ask her to stay? He could do that just as easily if he were awake. Against her better judgment, she returned to the couch and sat down beside it, resting her head on the cushion by his.   
  
She watched him shift in response to his dream, moving his arms and legs and, at one point, tilting his head so that their faces were mere inches apart. Through all this, his lips moved in silent entreaty, but when he drew closer, she could hear him whisper, "Kiss me goodnight, Sango."   
  
Sango stared at him, wide-eyed. Kiss him? Her mind ran with the possibility. Now that she thought about it, she could. And he, _no one_ would be the wiser. It wasn't every day that one got the chance to kiss a lecherous monk and not get your bottom squeezed. She leaned closer. But how should she kiss him? A brief brush on the lips? Or should she make it deeper, longer? Coax his mouth open and let her tongue dance with his until he woke up? She shivered at the image her mind fed her. He would certainly be surprised, but was she daring enough to attempt it?   
  
She licked her lips nervously and decided against it. There was too much risk involved. She angled her mouth towards his cheek; her safest bet would be a simple peck on the cheek. Just as her lips reached his skin, Miroku's head turned, and his hand came up behind her head. So startled at the sensation of Miroku's lips crushed to hers and his tongue exploring the interior of her mouth, Sango did not immediately react. Not until his hand moved from her neck down her back to her rear.  
  
Breaking away from him with a gasp, Sango stared at him, heart beating wildly, breathing erratic. "Y-you're awake!"   
  
Miroku smirked. Flustering the taija-ya was a rare occurrence. "After a kiss like that, that's all you can say?"   
  
Sango blushed. "I-I was aiming for your cheek!" The second she said those words, her hands flew up to her mouth as if to grab them back. Why did she admit that she actually _was_ trying to kiss him?  
  
"Well," Miroku responded drolly, "you missed."   
  
"You turned your head!"   
  
"Aren't you glad I did?"   
  
Sango opened her mouth to deny it, but found she could not. And admitting to _that_ was out of the question. She stood. "I'm going to bed."  
  
Miroku caught her wrist and twined his fingers with hers, all seriousness now. "Why did you come home so early?"  
  
Sango's gaze jumped from their joined hands to his eyes, such warm, dark, caring, sensual- She shook her head to keep it from turning entirely into mush. "I- um..." She tried to recall what he had asked... Something about home... Had he said home? Did he mean here? The Higurashi house? Or this side of the well in general? Or was he just using the term "home" loosely because "Why did you come to the place where we're staying so early?" is just awkward?  
  
"Sango?" He squeezed her hand to get her attention. "Where'd you wander off to?"   
  
Sango flushed again. "Um..." She suddenly remembered her initial reason for finding him. "I just- Hojo-kun remembered that he had promised his mother to do something, so he had to leave. There wasn't any point in my staying without him. I just wanted to make sure you weren't worried and... Well, goodnight." She bowed quickly and spun on her heel, practically fleeing the room. She leaned on the door as it closed behind her, horrified with herself. _Why_ had she lied? She had planned so long to just apologize to him, but... The moment had come, and the words had left, replaced by a horrible, disgusting lie that further hurt their relationship. Stupid, Sango, she berated herself, so stupid.   
  
*****  
  
Miroku glared at the door through which Sango had disappeared. He was angry at her, at himself, and at the stupid, fucked-up, thrice-damned door that wouldn't stop acting like such a... door. Miroku ground the palm of his hand into his forehead, sighing angrily.   
  
He was so stupid. First, he was angry at a door. Second, he let Hojo have Sango without a fight... well, he had tried to fight, but the guy was too nice to even recognize competition. Third, Sango had come in, given him that hell of a nice back rub, and then run away, mumbling something about Hojo leaving early. He didn't believe her for one second, but what was she initially going to say? Fourth, he'd kissed her... He paused for a moment. He _had_ kissed her, hadn't he? That fact took another long moment to settle in. _He_, Miroku the sometimes (okay, okay, _usually_) lecherous monk, had just kissed (and not a simple brush on the lips either) _Sango_, the totally gorgeous demon huntress, and _then_ had calmly bantered about it. Holy fucking shit! He'd just kissed Sango, something he'd dreamed about doing for months, and he'd come away scratch-free!   
  
A lazy, contented grin crept on to his face. And the way he'd done it too was absolutely brilliant, even for him. And she hadn't really protested... His grin faded. Yes, she had. Not immediately, but she ran away. Talking about Hojo... He clenched his fists. Stupid, stupid boy!   
  
And as Miroku sat glaring at the door, blaming it for all his misfortunes, he was not sure whether he was insulting Hojo or himself.   
  
*****  
  
Sometime the next morning, Miroku became aware of someone tapping his foot. He tried to ignore it, tried to cling to the small world in his imagination where he and Sango got along without a hitch and no Hojo existed, but his foot, unfortunately enough, was highly sensitive. Biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh, he sat up and glared, bleary-eyed at whoever it was messing with his foot.   
  
A brown-and-white striped, very fat cat sprawled next to his legs, pawing at his feet.   
  
Not sure whether to be amused or annoyed, Miroku drew his feet under him and reached out to pet the cat. Lacking any sort of self-preservation instincts, Buyo rolled over, presenting its stomach to be rubbed.   
  
Miroku was very happy to oblige. Petting small, furry animals was relaxing in an odd way. And after last night's fiasco, he was more than tense... Well, he hadn't been tense after the back rub, but... He shook his head as if to toss Sango completely out of his mind. He would not think about her today until he absolutely had to. He'd stay right where he was, stroking the family pet all day, but he would not actively search Sango, or anyone else for that matter, out. He would sit right where he was... all day... forever, if need be. However, Fate or, in this case, Mrs. Higurashi rarely has the same plans.   
  
The older woman glanced into the living room as she passed through the kitchen and noticed his wakefulness. "Ah, Miroku! I'm so glad you're awake! Sango's not feeling that well this morning, and could you be a dear and stay with her for awhile? Just in case she needs anything."   
  
Miroku stopped petting Buyo for an instant, hand frozen in mid-air. Stay with Sango? After he wanted to avoid her?  
  
Mrs. Higurashi, seeing his hesitation, quickly added, "You don't have to, of course."   
  
Miroku stood, scooping up the obese cat and holding it close. "No, I can sit with her." He headed for the stairs.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi exhaled with relief. "Oh, thank you. There's some chicken soup in the cupboard any time Sango's stomach settles down enough for her to be hungry. Just toss it into a pan and turn the oven on High. Don't forget to turn it off though. I'm going to run to the pharmacy since Kagome took all the flu medication with her. I'll be right back." She grabbed her purse off the kitchen table and hurried to the front door.  
  
Miroku sighed. It seemed like he saw more of their host rushing to or from somewhere than anything else. She reminded him of Kagome in that way. Both had far too much energy than was healthy. And speaking of health...  
  
Sango was lying hidden under three heavy quilts, a very fluffy, large comforter, and several pairs of sheets. Her head was the only visible portion of her body. When Miroku walked in carrying Buyo, she raised it and glanced at him with fever-glazed eyes. "Houshi-sama?" Her voice was hoarse.  
  
Miroku nodded and pulled Kagome's chair away from her desk to the bedside. "Sango," he acknowledged.  
  
Her head sank back to the pillow. "I'm cold," she complained quietly.  
  
Miroku eyed the mountain of blankets, doubting, but said nothing. He settled as well as he could into the hard, wooden chair and calmly stroked the cat.   
  
Sango drifted in and out of sleep for a time, only waking up long enough to peer about for a second or two before sleeping once more. This continued for an hour or so, Miroku petting Buyo all the while. The theory of the relaxation petting provides was destroyed as Miroku's thoughts revolved round and round Sango's recent actions. As he thought, his anger and frustration at the situation grew until it reached a breaking point.  
  
When Sango returned to consciousness, she gathered enough strength to lever her upper body somewhat upright. "You're still here, Houshi-sama?"  
  
She sounded better, Miroku noted absently, and her cheeks looked like they had a bit more color. He nodded to her question, still intent on the loudly purring Buyo.   
  
Sango sighed. "You don't have to sit here, you know. You might get sick if you do."   
  
Miroku shrugged and mumbled something.   
  
Sango strained to hear what he said. "What was that?"  
  
"I said, I don't care." He glanced up, anger smoldering in his eyes. "What am I supposed to do in this place without you, hmm? It's bad enough that I have to deal with you chasing after every guy that falls across your path. Now you're sick, and you _still_ don't want me around! I said I'd stay with you until Kagome and Inuyasha came; it's kind of hard to do when you don't want to stay with me." He delivered this speech in a quiet voice which conveyed his anger far better than yelling would. He turned his gaze back to Buyo when he finished.   
  
Sango stared at him. It took a moment to find her voice. "Um, Houshi-sama, I'm... ah-" She shivered. "Cold."  
  
Miroku sighed and stood, heading over to Kagome's dresser. "Because your clothes are soaked with sweat." He rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a turtleneck and a pair of sweatpants. He tossed them to her and turned around. "There, get changed."   
  
Sango studied his back as she nervously fingered the clothing. "You're going to stand there?"  
  
Miroku snapped, "You could have been changed by now!"   
  
Sango flinched. Normally she would defend herself, but she still felt guilty for not apologizing; so she wordlessly stripped her soggy nightclothes off and donned the clean, dry, warm clothes.   
  
Exhausted by that brief exercise, she sank back on to the bed and would have lain down had Miroku not grabbed her wrists and forced her on to her feet.   
  
"You need to get some fresh air. You'll never get well sitting in a room full of sickness," he explained when she raised her eyebrow at his action. He led her from the room.   
  
They had almost made it to the stairs when Sango's illness made itself known again. Her mouth went dry, the world started to spin, and her stomach lurched. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and Miroku caught her, awkwardly, because of his sling, pulling her up against his chest and supporting her legs and back with his arms. This swift movement did not help her roiling stomach one bit, and with a small gasp, Sango emptied the contents of her stomach on Miroku's shoulder and chest.   
  
To his credit, Miroku said nothing nor made any disgusted faces; he simply changed course to the bathroom, set Sango down on the sink counter, and pulled off the smelly shirt.   
  
Sango apologized profusely, several times in fact, but Miroku never responded. He silently trudged down to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, silently handed it to her and watched her drink, silently ran the glass back downstairs and carried her back to her bed. All this without a word and hardly a glance.   
  
Sango was certain he was still mad at her, even more so now that she had vomited all over him, but why wouldn't he say anything? Or glare? Or slap her? Or something, anything other than this cold, emotionless nothing! It occurred to her then that perhaps he wanted her annoyed because of this silent treatment. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He wouldn't accept her apologies; fine, two could play that game. 


	6. Chills and Thrills

AN: I uploaded this about a week ago, and it got shoved almost immediately to the third page, thus I'm uploading it again. Hopefully people will actually be able to read it this time.   
  
Future Lovin' Part 6  
  
The house was eerily silent when Mrs. Higurashi stepped through the front door. True, Sango was ill, but she would expect Miroku to be making some sort of noise, watching the television if nothing else. When she crept upstairs, she was surprised to find Sango awake and sitting up in bed, and Miroku perched on Kagome's desk chair, Buyo in his lap. It looked almost exactly like it had when she left. Except neither of them was looking at the other... in fact, they were pointedly ignoring each other.   
  
Brow furrowed, Mrs. Higurashi stepped to the bed and reached into the brown paper bag she had brought from the pharmacist. She pulled out a glass bottle filled with a dark syrupy liquid and measured out a dosage in a small plastic cup, handing it to Sango as soon as she was finished. "It doesn't taste very good, but it will help with the fever and upset stomach."  
  
She hovered as Sango downed the cup in one gulp and screwed the corner of her mouth up. "It's not the worst cure I've had to drink," the taija-ya commented.   
  
Mrs. Higurashi smiled and gently pressed on Sango's shoulders, forcing her to lie down. "Now, get some rest-"  
  
Sango struggled. "But I've had plenty of rest! I want-"  
  
Mrs. Higurashi placed a finger on the younger woman's lips. "It's not a matter of want; you _need_ rest. The sooner you rest, the sooner you'll get better, and the sooner you can be out and about the city again. Speaking of which, Miroku..." she turned to address the monk, but found the chair empty.   
  
She made a small, thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. "Well, all the better for him to get some fresh air. Sleep tight, Sango." Mrs. Higurashi slipped fully into mothering mode as she pulled the sheets up around Sango's chin and patted her on the head. "I don't want to see you downstairs until you're feeling 100% better, got that?"  
  
At Sango's nod, Mrs. Higurashi left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her.   
  
*****   
  
Miroku reverently approached the giant Goshimboku, much more ancient now than in his time, and knelt in the grass at its base. How many times had he seen Kagome and Inuyasha sit in that exact same spot four hundred years in the past? How many times had he mentally replaced that with a vision of himself and Sango sitting as comfortably and as close as they?   
  
The monk shook his head. He was still angry at her... right? Yeah! Of course! Angry... well, maybe not angry, but upset... maybe even... well, okay, so maybe, just maybe, he wasn't upset anymore. Maybe he was even a tiny, minuscule, extremely small bit remorseful that he had _been_ angry. But still! She wouldn't apologize for the whole Hojo thing! She still ran away... or puked on him to delay the inevitable. He would get an apology out of her!  
  
But did he really need one? Hadn't he already forgiven her?   
  
Miroku clenched his hands in the grass. He had. It was forgiven, not quite forgotten, but almost. He just wanted it back to normal, Sango and him hunting down Shikon shards with Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippo. Sango slapping him for groping her. Sango and him fighting youkai side by side. Sango and him, Sango and him, Sango and him... The phrase rotated around in his head. It had come to the point where he almost couldn't separate them. He was nothing without Sango... but the question was, was she anything without him?  
  
Could she survive without him? Oddly, he would like the answer to be both "Yes," and "No." He wanted her to need him like he needed her, but he also didn't want her too dependent on a man likely to be consumed by his own hand sometime in the near future. He glanced at his cursed hand and saw it was full of grass. Dropping the grass to the ground and wiping his slightly green hand on his jeans, he let his gaze wander across the yard.   
  
The house stood before him, two stories tall, obscuring his view of the city. The wellhouse was set to the left of the house, within easy walking distance, but the reason why eluded him. The well was there long before the house, and it had always been a dry well, why not build the house further back where there could be a _real_ well? And why even erect a shelter over the well in the first place? So small pets and children couldn't fall in? But Kagome-sama had, so that safeguard didn't really work...   
  
Miroku rubbed the bridge of his nose. Too many questions and not enough ways of finding the answers.   
  
He plucked at the grass again and found himself yearning for his shakujo. He hadn't had it with him when he fell through the well, and now he wanted to grip it, feel the familiar weight in his hand. Pride kept him from being comforted by Sango's presence, and he was feeling awfully lonely. Silly, that he was attached so much to an overgrown stick.  
  
A breeze blew past him, tickling his hair into his ear and bringing with it the sound of chimes. Miroku tilted his head. There were no wind chimes around the shrine; he had not seen or heard them before, and he should have since it was usually quite windy on top of the hill.  
  
The sound came again, seemingly from a small shed on the opposite side of the Goshimboku. Miroku stood and headed towards it. He had noticed the building on his brief exploration of the shrine grounds a few days past. When he had slid open the door, the smell of rotten wood and old paper had assailed his nostrils, and he had quickly left it to decay. The quick look at the interior had revealed it to be a storage facility as it was filled with boxes and tables piled high with what could only be described as junk. Perhaps there was a wind chime located within?   
  
This time, he held his breath before opening the door and stepped back for a minute to let it air out a bit. It was dark inside, but enough light spilled through the open door for Miroku to see what was nearest him. There were the same boxes and tables from his previous examination, but as he turned in a slow circle, he saw something leaning against the wall next to the door. Two things actually, both taller than him and very very recognizable. One was broad and bent in the middle, a stripe of dark material wrapped around both ends. The other was long and thing, a staff with a dull golden head... with rings attached to it that chimed gently together in a breeze that did not blow into the building.  
  
A chill swept from the crown of Miroku's head to his toes, leaving the hair along his arms, legs, and the back of his neck standing erect. Hiraikotsu and his shakujo, familiar yet different. These looked mostly the same, except the cloth on the boomerang was tattered and beginning to fall off the bone like some decaying piece of flesh, and the shakujo was covered in cobwebs. Why were their weapons stored in the Higurashi shrine? And why had the staff called to him?   
  
The rings on the staff chimed again, and Miroku slowly backed out of the shed. The staff was his, and yet it was not. He would not feel comfortable holding an item that had no right being where it was. But he still had a burning desire to know why the staff was there... perhaps Higurashi-jiisan would know; after all, it was his shrine.  
  
*****  
  
The room smelled of herbs and age, not dissimilar to Kaede's hut, but it looked far different. A sleeping mat was rolled up in the corner, a pile of blankets folded beside it. A low table, covered in odd-looking items- including a mummified kappa hand- was set in the room's center. Grandpa Higurashi was nowhere to be seen.   
  
Miroku advanced towards the table, kneeling to examine the artifacts more closely. A wad of glossy paper tucked between a box full of Shikon no Tama replicas connected to small chains and a book detailing the various uses of sake in Shinto ceremonies caught Miroku's attention. He had never seen paper reflect light like that before.   
  
Picking the paper up, he unraveled it and stared at the picture on top. A naked woman, breasts dangling, smiled seductively at him from the front page of the magazine. Miroku flipped quickly from one page to the next, marveling at the amount of flesh flagrantly displayed.   
  
The door sliding open startled him; and, stuffing the magazine up his shirt, he spun around, guilty expression in place. Grandpa hobbled in, surprised to see him.   
  
"Eh, Miroku... looking for something?"   
  
Miroku nodded, edging around the old man towards the door. "You, actually." He hoped the outline of the magazine was not visible through his shirt. "I was wondering if you knew anything about the... um, shakujo in the storage shed."   
  
"Shakujo?" Grandpa squeezed one eye shut and screwed one corner of his mouth up as he thought. "Ah, yes! There's a legend around that shakujo! One about the storage shed too, but I'll get to that another time. The shakujo, yes; it belonged to the wandering monk who founded this shrine." Grandpa stomped the floor to emphasize his words and then sank on to his knees, Miroku copying the movement a second later. "He left his native village to fight an ancient evil and once he had conquered it, found he had no purpose in life any more. And so he wandered. One night he came to a small village to spend the night, but this village was beset by so many demons that the townsfolk asked him to stay. Having nothing better to do, he did. For weeks, then months, and finally years.  
  
"He became so comfortable in this village that even after demon attacks became less frequent he stayed. And one day, out exploring, he stumbled across a dry well that he had never noticed before deep in the forest. Lying beside this well was a beautiful girl dressed in the strange clothing of another world, a small multi-tailed dog guarding her and a large boomerang- that'd be the one in the shed- propped against the well.   
  
"As is the case with most legends, the girl woke, and she and the monk fell instantly in love. The monk shirked off his vows of chastity (along with his robes), and the two had wild sex into the night. Anyway, the next morning the monk, in thanks for finally getting laid," Grandpa smirked, "vowed to build the shrine in which we stand."   
  
Miroku's eyebrow raised slightly. "Interesting... is there," he paused to choose the best words, "any truth to this at all?" Some of the story sounded vaguely like their situation- the strangely-dressed girl and the well for instance, but Sango had the boomerang not Kagome, and Kirara was certainly no dog... unless, time had distorted the truth combining the two-tailed cat and Inuyasha. Now _that_ was certainly funny. Inuyasha reduced to the role of a bit character.   
  
Grandpa snorted. "There's always some truth to any legend, boy. Some have more, some have less, but this particular one... I really have no idea."  
  
Miroku sighed. "I guess I'll never really know then..." Until I found the shrine, he finished in his mind, and then berated himself. He did not know if he even did- would? Already had?- found it; Grandpa's story was filled with so many half-truths and outright lies that the shrine may not have been founded by a "wandering monk."   
  
Before Grandpa could respond, Mrs. Higurashi's voice floated to them from the kitchen, calling them to dinner. Grandpa climbed to his feet. "Off with you, lad. Go check on that Sango of yours before we eat."  
  
Miroku followed his instructions, heading off down the hallway as Grandpa descended the stairs. Sango of mine? Hmm, my Sango, the thought pleased him greatly. Sango was sleeping when he popped his head into the room, so he left her in peace and stopped by the living room on his way to the kitchen to hide the dirty magazine beneath a couch cushion. He needed to show it to Inuyasha the next time he saw the hanyou. 


	7. The trouble with afghans

AN: Well, this took forever, but finally got this chapter done. Not sure if I like it though. I think maybe I rushed through the ending, and it's not very believable. Oh well, tell me what you think, and I'll change it before the next chapter if it's really that bad.   
  
Future Lovin' Part 7  
  
Miroku found breathing through his nose next to impossible, and his head felt stuffed with cotton, cotton that also housed a beehive and a smithy simultaneously as his hearing alternated between high-pitched buzzing and a pounding deep in his brain.   
  
He had gone to bed early the night before claiming a headache, but now he had a migraine a thousand times worse than any he had ever had before. Or maybe it was not the worst he had had, but he could not think of another time, did not want to think, could not think for the pain. Thinking hurt, breathing hurt, being awake and staring at the ceiling all fuzzy-brained hurt. Deciding that turning into a puddle of ooze and melting away would also hurt, he determined to get to his feet... couldn't hurt any worse, could it? Well, that was the plan anyway.   
  
He sat up slowly, put one foot on the floor, the other, began to stand, and once more discovered the ceiling was a fascinating thing to watch. He remained on his back an indeterminate amount of time; it could have been a minute, an hour, a day for all he cared before Mrs. Higurashi ventured into the living room to find him sprawled bonelessly on the carpet.  
  
With strength he never would have imagined she possessed, she hauled him back on to the sofa and covered him with an afghan. A moment later, she was buzzing around the kitchen, heating up some soup for him. Once his food was delivered and she made sure he was eating, she zoomed upstairs to check on Sango.   
  
The demon huntress was pulling on a pair of jeans when Mrs. Higurashi entered the room. The older woman considered sending Sango straight back to bed, but thought better of it. If Sango thought she was well enough to move around, it would be a waste of time to argue. Besides, she would need help with the monk. _He_ would be difficult to keep in place for a long period of time (though he had managed well when nursing Sango to health.) It seemed Miroku had been paid for his vigil by catching Sango's illness. Oh well, that was life.   
  
Sango nodded mutely when Mrs. Higurashi suggested she see Miroku and headed downstairs as soon as she had pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. The monk had just finished his breakfast and was fumbling for the remote control when Sango entered the room.   
  
He glanced up at her with bleary eyes and then tried to sit up, the remote forgotten, the thick afghan falling to his waist, revealing his bare chest. Sango's heart jumped. The last time she'd seen him like this was the other day when he'd kissed her... would he do it again?   
  
Miroku grinned and swayed slightly, starting to topple backwards. He grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her forward on top of him as he fell. Sango's heart thudded again when she realized her new position. So close to the pervert... would he try something? He was in a perfect situation to let his hands wander, but they stayed on her arms. His lips were very close, very very close, so close that she could feel his warm breath as he exhaled against her own.  
  
Miroku moved his hands. Sango prepared to clobber him. Instead of grabbing at her ass, Miroku wrapped his arms around her back and hugged her. Sango stiffened in the embrace, but then relaxed as time dragged on and there was no sign of errant hand movement.   
  
Her gaze fixed on his lips again. They were still close, not quite as close as before since Miroku had tilted his head slightly to avoid eating her hair, but very little effort would actually be needed to close the gap between them.   
  
Miroku sighed and rubbed his cheek against hers. "You're very comfortable, y'know."   
  
Sango stiffened automatically. What exactly did he mean by that? He was being perverted, just waiting for the right moment... but the dreamy, almost childlike expression on his face denied that. He looked like he was honestly enjoying just being close to her... without groping. Worry settled in her stomach. He _must_ be sick, really sick.   
  
She lifted a hand to his forehead. "Houshi-sama..."  
  
One of Miroku's hands shot up to grasp her wrist, and he pulled her hand down to his mouth, kissing the back of it. "Miroku, Sango. Just Miroku," he murmured.   
  
"But, Houshi-sama-"  
  
"Hush." Miroku planted a light butterfly kiss on her mouth.  
  
A shock raced up Sango's spine. What was he doing? Why wasn't she stopping him? Miroku placed several more light, barely noticeable kisses all over her face and neck. However, Sango was extremely aware of what he was doing and turned her head in an attempt to get his lips to brush hers again.   
  
Sensing what she wanted, Miroku swallowed a grin and avoided her mouth, kissing all other available skin. He might be ill, but this was a good distraction, very good... especially when Sango became fed up with his avoidance and, grabbing the sides of his face, held his head still long enough to lean down and fix her lips firmly to his. Once captured, Miroku definitely did not want to be free again.   
  
Because of his illness and resulting lack of lung capacity though, he, quite unfortunately, was forced to pull away first. "Sango-"  
  
Sango did not let him finish, attacking his mouth again as soon as he had regained his breath. Miroku wasn't inclined to fight the taija-ya, especially since this was the goal he had striven towards for so long. That is, until he felt a tug on the waistband of his sweatpants. Quickly, he broke their liplock and grabbed her exploring hand.   
  
"Not here," he murmured.  
  
Sango, cheeks a bright pink, looked at him and then towards the open door between the room and the hallway. "I'll go close the door." She started to rise.  
  
Miroku tightened his hold on her, preventing her from moving. "No, I mean, not here. Not in this house, not in this world. Let's wait until we're back home."  
  
Sango bit her lip and stared at an unraveling corner of the afghan. "Why do I want to go back? Why do you? I thought we were enjoying it here."  
  
Miroku sighed. "We are, it's been fun, but it can't last. A nice diversion, a little vacation, but we need to get back. I'm running out of time. We need to kill Naraku."  
  
"What if Kagome and Inuyasha kill him?"  
  
"They might, but it'd be easier for all of us to do it. Besides, I'm not one to sit idly by and wait for something to happen."  
  
Sango was silent for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip, contemplating a response. Finally, she raised her head and met his gaze squarely. "So is this why you've never made a move on me? Always going for those other women. I can see that you don't just sit there and do nothing around them! You at least ask them if they want relations with you. All you do with me is pat my backside and give my breasts a good squeeze once in awhile." She struggled against his hold, managing to free herself enough to roll off the couch on to her feet.   
  
Sango glared down at him. "I would have no problem having sex with you right now! And isn't that basically what you want in the end? So why turn me down? Hell, if you want, I'll bear your child! I'd do anything for you, so why don't you..." She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as a realization struck her. All anger disappeared from her voice. "You don't want me." It was a simple statement, rather emotionless after her previous outburst.   
  
Miroku shook his head. "Sango, no, that's not-"  
  
Sango backed away towards the door. "No, it is. I understand. What I've been told my entire life is true. I'm a demon hunter, and as such, am not very feminine. I thought I'd accepted that, and I thought you had too. I thought you wanted me, even though I'm not giggly and silly like all those other girls. I-I was wrong. I'm going now." She whirled around and hurried out the door, not quite running.   
  
Miroku cursed and jumped up, but his legs got caught in the afghan. He fell to the floor, hitting his head on the coffee table. Nausea returned with the pain, and he was unable to move for a good minute. "Damn," he muttered into the soft carpet, "that went horribly." 


	8. Apologies and the happily ever after end...

AN: Well, it's kinda abrupt, but here's the last chapter. Bet you weren't expecting that. Happy Halloween! ^_^   
  
Future Lovin' Part 8  
  
Sango sat on Kagome's bed, her face buried in her knees as she bawled her eyes out. Why did it have to happen like that? He was supposed to welcome her with open arms; he was supposed to be appreciative; he was supposed to love her, but all he'd done was push her away, tell her she didn't mean anything to him, that he found other women more attractive than her. How could she have been such a fool? Now she looked like a slut, and it was all because of him!   
  
She desperately felt the need for companionship. She needed a friend right now, but started crying harder when she realized that she was alone in this world. Miroku was the only familiar face in Kagome's time. She certainly didn't know Mrs. Higurashi well enough to tell her sob story to, and there was no one else, no one who would feel sympathy and pat her back, tell her it was ok, that everything would be all right, with or without Miroku.   
  
In fact, there was only one person in either this world or hers that she would feel comfortable enough talking to, and that was Kagome... and she was back in the past. Sniffling one last time, Sango wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked about the room. Nothing here was hers other than the clothes Mrs. Higurashi had bought for her, and those Kagome could easily wear. Oh, and the prizes Hojo and Miroku had won for her... She could care less. There was nothing to pack.   
  
Resolute, Sango stood and marched downstairs and out the front door, completely ignoring Miroku as he chased after her. When he grabbed at her arm, she turned, slugged him, and continued walking as though nothing had happened even as his face hit the ground. Her destination was the wellhouse, and nothing would keep her from it.   
  
The interior of the outbuilding was dark and musty. Surprisingly dry though, the Higurashis kept good care of their shrine. Sango stepped onto the lip of the well. She could not see the bottom. The only thing to do now was take a deep breath and jump in... and so she did.  
  
*****  
  
Miroku staggered to his feet, rubbing his jaw. He had lost track of how many times he'd eaten floor this morning. Far too many for comfort. He briefly considered being angry at Sango, but discarded the idea. This had gone on far too long. It was enough, time to put away all their anger, sit down, and have a nice long chat. He was tired of being angry at Sango, then forgiving her, and having her suddenly do an about-face and be mad at him. It was stupid and childish, and it was time they grew up and worked out the kinks in their relationship. He definitely wanted to have one with her, and not just a physical one either.   
  
He followed her to the wellhouse. So she thought to go back to their time, hm? So what? He would just follow her, and they could talk there in more familiar surroundings. He glanced over his shoulder at the Higurashi house and what little could be seen of the city behind it. He would miss this world, but it was past time to get back to their own.   
  
Miroku ducked into the darkness and heard a rather distinct groan from the well. Peeking over the edge, he saw Sango lying in a heap at the bottom of the well. He clambered down the ladder set in the well and reached her just as she was pulling herself into a sitting position. She looked rather dazed, obviously the shock of hitting the floor was not what she expected.   
  
Miroku wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, supporting her until she remembered to stand on her own feet. Even after she recovered, he did not remove his arm. He gave her waist a squeeze. "Sango, we need to talk."  
  
Sango tensed and pushed at him. "No, we need to get back home."  
  
Miroku grinned. "Glad you feel the same finally. But we do need to talk." He craned his neck back to look up at the top of the well. They could climb back up and have this discussion in the kitchen, but it was much quieter here, no distractions... He sat, folding his legs beneath him and pulling Sango down with him.  
  
The taija-ya protested, "I just got up!"  
  
Miroku put a finger to her lips. "It's more comfortable to sit than to stand, especially when speaking of such important things as what we are to each other. And you are everything to me."  
  
Sango shook her head. "I am not! What about all the girls you ask that- that stupid, idiotic question? Don't they mean something?"  
  
"No."  
  
Sango inhaled sharply. "Wha- what...?" She foundered for words.   
  
Miroku smiled gently. "I'm not going to lie to you. They don't mean anything other than a brief sexual thrill. You though... I care for you, deeply. All those other girls, I don't see them, I don't actually ask _them_ that question. I'm asking you, always, since I met you I've been talking to you. That's why I never actually asked you... because I already had, and you had rejected me."   
  
He sighed and looked down at his hands. "I know it sounds pathetic, but I am pathetic. I've always known it. I mean, really, what moron goes around asking anything with two legs and breasts if they'd bear his child? The only type of girl I'm going to get a positive answer out of is a whore... and well, they routinely don't make very good mothers, certainly couldn't raise a boy who needs to kill a demon so he doesn't get sucked into his own hand.  
  
"Heh," Miroku snorted, "Kami, that's gonna be the most pathetic way to die. Whoosh, bang, suddenly non-existent, leaving a big-ass crater in the middle of somebody's lawn... Naraku's one sick bastard; who puts a fatal vacuum cleaner in the hand of your enemy? Aren't there other, quicker ways to kill somebody?"  
  
Sango leaned towards him, concern etched on her features. "Houshi-sama-"  
  
"Damn it, Sango! Call me Miroku, or don't call me anything!"  
  
Sango nodded, lowering her eyes. "All right, Hou- er, Miroku. I'm willing," she whispered.  
  
"No, you're not. Don't delude yourself. You can't be. No one could possibly be willing to bear a child when they know the father is going to die soon after or even before its birth. No one could want to, and I don't want you to want to either... However, I do want you to want me. Nothing has to happen, just be there, and don't be angry. I can't stand it when you're angry with me. It makes life so much harder. Some days I feel it would be easier to turn the Kaze ana on myself than face your anger." He smiled sardonically. "No one would miss me that's for sure."  
  
Miroku had only been partially joking when he had said that, but still he did not expect the swift whack of Sango's hand connecting with his cheek. "Don't be stupid, Miroku! We'd all miss you! Kagome, Inuyasha, Shippo, me! Even Kaede and Myouga! You're important to us, to me. We'll beat Naraku and break the curse! We won't let you be killed by it! We care for you too much!"  
  
Miroku rubbed his stinging cheek and smirked. "We care, Sango? Or just you?"  
  
Sango's reply was to wrap her arms around his torso and neck, threading the fingers of her right hand in his hair. "Me, idiot," she murmured and closed the gap between their lips.   
  
A cough and applause from behind them caused them to break apart. Inuyasha, Kagome perched on his back, stood grinning at them in the close confines of the well. "I hope we're not interrupting," the hanyou snickered.  
  
Kagome whapped him over the head. "Quit teasing them. Put me down."  
  
Inuyasha obliged, grumbling under his breath, and Kagome immediately latched on to Sango's arm and practically carried the older girl up the ladder and out of the wellhouse, insisting she get all the details.   
  
The men, left behind in the well, exchanged an eyeroll and a shrug, a shared understanding of the habits of women.   
  
Miroku broke the silence. "Pay up, man. I told you I'd kiss Sango before you and Kagome got anywhere."  
  
A brief smile flitted across Inuyasha's face, come and gone before Miroku could notice it. "All right, all right. Here." Coins were passed from one overly large sleeve to another.   
  
A shoe suddenly hit Miroku in the head. "We were a BET?!" Sango screeched.   
  
Miroku winced. "Nono! It's not like that! Sango, we made it a long time ago. It was a stupid thing to do." He clambered up the ladder and followed the angry woman as she stormed out into the yard. "I'm sorry. I'll give the money back. I'll make it up to you somehow..."  
  
Kagome cocked her head, listening to Miroku's apologies for as long as she could hear them. "You don't think she'll be angry with him too much longer, do you?"  
  
Inuyasha hopped easily out of the well and landed beside her. "Nah, probably not."  
  
Kagome smiled sweetly and held out her hand. "Well, in that case, pay up, lover boy. They are definitely together."  
  
Inuyasha grinned weakly back. "The bouzu sort of wiped me out."  
  
Kagome crossed her arms over her chest. "If that's the case, fine, I'll just have to take it out of your flesh." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him firmly. "One yen." She turned and started out towards the house. "It will take awhile so we'll spread the payment out."  
  
Inuyasha's brow crinkled. "But, Kagome, my kisses should be worth more than one stinkin' yen."  
  
Kagome glared at her over her shoulder. "Are you complaining about having to kiss me?"  
  
Inuyasha waved his hands in front of himself to avoid the same fate as Miroku. "No, no. Just- oh, never mind. Let's get some ramen."  
  
Kagome sighed and slipped next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist. He, in turn, draped his around her shoulders. "Is all you think of food?"  
  
"And kissing you." He leaned down to demonstrate. "Two yen."  
  
~Owari   
  
AN: Uh-huh, so sweet it'll make your teeth rot. It's part of the season. ^_^ Oh yeah, I have a new website. It's not actually related to Miroku and Sango, although I will have one of those one of these days. ^_^ http://www.geocities.com/necrophilia_inu/ It has something to do with Kikyo, but don't condemn it yet! Give it a chance! Look at it! Tell me what you think! Happy Halloween again! ^_^ 


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